The Way You Look Tonight
by Pandorama
Summary: A dual perspective of a single day, in which Luka prepares to ask Abby to marry him.


_originally intended as a sequel to another story, but better off alone. the prequel was a disaster and only detracts from the overall quality. in this version, luka came back from the congo and immediately initiated the second coming of his relationship with abby. this is set eight months later. i do apologize for the abrupt start, but it would be a mistake to include the prequel. i hope my brief explaination suffices. please feel free to leave comments, criticism, etc._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, though I wish I did. They belong to NBC and the writers of "ER"._

**Luka**

I've been lying awake, watching her sleep all night. She's so peaceful right now. I study her carefully, trying to memorize everything about her. The way her silky hair falls over the pillow around her, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, the moonlight glinting off her pale skin. Her lips are pursed as if she's concentrating, and I have the urge to lean over and kiss her. The covers are thrown off, and I follow the curves of her body, her gently concave stomach, her slight jutting hipbones, down to her bended knee. One hand rests lightly on her chest, the other arm over her eyes. I can't believe I ever let this go.

Tomorrow I'll ask her to marry me. Perhaps by now it's tonight. I've had the ring for weeks, waiting until I was sure she was ready. I've been ready to ask her since I got back from Africa. I want her here, next to me, for the rest of our lives. I love her. I love her like she'd never understand.

I slide closer to her and wrap my arm around her gently, careful not to wake her. I rest my head in the space between her head and shoulder and kiss her soft skin gently. I want to spend my life with her.

**Abby**

I open my eyes to find myself staring straight into his. Those deep, mysterious eyes...I could get lost in them. I smile. "Morning."

The way he looks at me makes me blush. I've never felt beautiful the way I do when he watches me. "Morning." I wonder how long he's been awake. He takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth. "You're not on today, are you?"

I shake my head. "No. Are you?"

"No." He smiles and pulls me closer to him. I yawn and snuggle into his chest. He kisses my bare shoulder. "We don't even have to get out of bed if you don't want to."

I love the feeling of his arms around me. I've wanted to feel like this for so long, safe, comfortable, content...loved. I can feel his warm breath on my neck and I turn over. "Don't you think we might get a little bored?"

He shakes his head slowly and leans in. His lips are a fraction of an inch from mine. "I think we can find ways of entertaining ourselves." He smiles before pressing his lips into mine. I feel his tongue searching my mouth and my eyes close as his hands caress my face. _God, he's a good kisser._ His hands travel down to my waist and he rolls me on top of him without breaking the kiss. I move my own arms around him and let my hands slide up his neck and into his soft hair. Now I can feel his hands roaming my body and I moan just a little. I slip my tongue between his lips and the space between our mouths becomes nonexistent. I love this closeness. I love how he holds me like this and how the rest of the world disappears around us.

I hear a faint noise, and realize it's Luka's stomach. I begin to laugh, and our kiss is interrupted. I roll off of him and he grins at me. I tousle his hair. "Breakfast?"

**Luka**

My hands move down her waist, over her hips, to rest on her thighs. She moans into my mouth and then I feel her tongue against mine. If we were any closer we'd be...I know exactly where we'd be. I move to pursue it, when my stomach growls. Abby begins to giggle. I try to ignore it and keep her from breaking the kiss, but she rolls off of me. I can't help smiling as she dissolves in a fit of laughter. She reaches over and messes up my hair. "Breakfast?"

"Mmhmm." I roll gently on top of her and press my lips to her neck. I can feel her tense a little as I begin sucking on her skin. She wraps her arms around me and moves her head to the side. A little sigh escapes her, and I can't help smiling. I love every second of this. I move my head back to look at her and grin. "I want you for breakfast."

She laughs softly, a sound I love hearing. She places one hand behind my head and I feel her fingers weave through my hair as she pulls my face to hers and our mouths meet. We don't break apart until, after almost ten minutes of heated kissing, she pushes me back gently, breathing hard. She looks at me, and I can see it in her eyes. She's willing me, daring me to take it further. I'm not one to back down from such a request.

**Abby**

I look up at him suggestively, trying to catch my breath. He knows what I'm asking, and a hungry smile spreads over his face and his body gives away his answer within seconds. We connect in a perfect motion and I gasp as he moves inside me. With any other man, it was sex. It was sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes mediocre. With Luka it's none of those things. I always called it what it was with other men: it was just sex. Luka and I make love. I've never been able to call it that with anyone else. We have this absolute passion between us that is beyond anything I've ever felt, we connect on some deeper level. It's physical; I can't say it's not. He's incredible. But it's more than that, every time. We never have sex just to have sex. Even though we never really say it, it's always love. It's bringing our bodies together as one. It's perfect and amazing and no one has ever made me feel the way he does.

We move in perfect syncopation, taking time to appreciate the feeling of our skin against each other. He moves his mouth next to my ear and whispers to me, sending shivers up my spine. "I want you." He says it without any hidden agenda. I love his sincerity, and I whisper back to him, my lips brushing against his ear and I can feel him tremble above me.

"I want you to want me."

There's nothing dirty about making love with Luka. Sometimes I think we could actually have sex in a church and it would be perfectly acceptable because no one could possibly find anything sinful about it. I'm not religious, but this is the closest thing I've felt to a religious experience. It's absolutely beautiful. He and I had this same connection the first time we were together, but that was the only thing that was easy between us. The complications were too much for us. But he changed in Africa, he let go of his demons and I'm letting go of mine. I'd never say it out loud, but he makes me want to be better. He makes me feel safer and more complete than I've ever felt.

I don't know how long we've been at it, but it feels like hours. It's incredible how long we can make this last. We're moving faster, though, and sweat is building on both our bodies. Luka's hair is damp; sweat drips from his face onto mine. Our eyes are locked, and I can feel that we're both getting close. Luka is breathing hard now, and so am I. I grab the back of his neck and pull his face to mine and kiss him with a force that surprises both of us. He returns the favor and we lock our mouths together as we both go over the edge. He collapses on top of me, still kissing me. His weight on top of me is comfortable, and I rest my palms on the small of his back as he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on mine, smiling. "I love making love to you," he breathes.

**Luka**

"I love making love to you." And I do. It's electrifying; every nerve in my body is on fire when we're together. And, god, she's beautiful. I love to watch her when we make love. I love watching her eyes, her face, her body. She pulls me close to her and we just lie there, tangled up in each other for awhile. Finally I press a kiss to her neck and break the silence. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"Mmm." Her eyes are closed, and she doesn't move. I smile and roll off her, taking the opportunity to appreciate her naked body.

I extend my hand to her, but she ignores it. "Come on." I slide off the bed and stand up. "Abby." She doesn't say anything, but there's a smile crawling over her face. "I'll make you breakfast, but you have to get up."

She opens one eye and considers. "Do we have any bread? I'm in the mood for French toast."

I smile. "We?" I'd love hearing her say that, even though she hasn't moved in with me. She almost always stays here, but her independent streak is hard to tame. She won't give up her apartment. Not yet, anyway.

"Do _you_ have any bread?" Her eyes are closed again.

I decide to press my luck. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with 'we'. I like 'we'."

She opens her eyes. "Luka..."

"Yes, I have bread. _We_ have bread." I grab her hand and pull her up. "There is bread, and I'll make you French toast if you get up."

"I'm up." She lets me drag her out of bed and I wrap my arms around her and kiss her bare shoulder.

"I think we make a good 'we'."

**Abby**

He kisses my shoulder softly. "I think we made a good 'we'." I don't say anything. I know he's right, I know we're good together, better than good. We're damn near perfect, but I just can't bring myself to say it out loud. I'm terrified that things will fall apart. This is the happiest I've been in as long as I can remember. I don't want to lose him. He seems to read my thoughts, but doesn't say a word. He kisses my forehead and takes his robe from the back of the door, slipping it around him. He picks mine up from the floor where I dropped it last night and holds it out for me. "Here."

I put it on and he slips his arm around my waist as we head to the kitchen. I start the coffee as he prepares the ingredients for breakfast. I feel guilty for not saying anything back to him, and I know that he is a little disappointed, maybe even hurt. I don't think he knows how much I love him, and that's my fault, my own insecurities. I flip the switch on the percolator and move to stand behind him at the counter. I slide my arms around him and rest my head on his back. "We make a good 'we'."

He doesn't say anything, but I know he's smiling. I kiss his spine and go to sit at his kitchen table. As soon as he starts the French toast and washes his hands, he comes over and sits across from me. He reaches out his arm and catches my hand, bringing it to his mouth. His stubble tickles my hand a little bit. "I know we make a good 'we'." He smiles a little and holds onto my hand as he stands up, bringing me with him. He pulls me into his arms and brushes his fingers through my hair. I let my face press into his chest. This is how we talk to one another. We never did find much use for words; we've always been able to communicate with out bodies. I don't mean sex. We say a lot more with out eyes, our hands, our lips, than with any verbal communication.

I smell the cinnamon scent of the French toast. "I think breakfast is ready." I smile as I untangle myself from him and pull two plates from the cabinet. I don't have to turn around to know he hasn't moved, and that he's watching me. He's predictable.

**Luka**

She moves away and I let her hair slip through my fingers. My eyes don't leave her as she goes to the counter and reaches for the plates. Her arm extends over her head to reach the shelf, and the sleeve of her robe falls to her shoulder, exposing her freckled skin. I tilt my head, committing the pattern they make on her arm to memory. As she turns back to me, I snap out of my daze and move to the stove to turn off the burner. She knows I love to watch her, but I try to act as though I don't. It's our unspoken game.

I slide a piece of toast onto each plate and carry them to the table. She brushes against me as she sets the bottle of syrup and silverware on the table, and as she moves towards her chair, I catch her by the wrist and spin her back towards me, and her lips land on mine just as I'd hoped. I smile inadvertently and ruin the kiss, but she doesn't seem to mind. We sit across from each other and reach for the syrup at the same time.

"Sorry. Go ahead." She pulls her hand back. I take the bottle and pour a river over her toast, just as she likes it, and then drizzle just a little on mine. She shakes her head. "You always have to be a gentleman, don't you?"

**Abby**

My hands are submerged in the soapy dishwater when I feel his hands slide down my arms and into the sink. His body presses against mine, trapping me between him and the counter as I feel his warm breath on my neck. "Luka, what are you doing?" I whisper to him as his lips brush against my skin.

"Helping." He laces his fingers through mine and lets his hands follow my own as I continue washing dishes. I feel him nuzzling my neck and pressing soft kisses into my skin. I find it difficult to focus on the task at hand, but I don't let him stop me. The intimacy of just having his hands on mine in the warm water, his body against me, is incredible. It's such a simple act, but somehow, it feels like more than that. It's sensual, it's loving, it's passionate, it's everything that our relationship has become in the past months. I finish and wipe my hands and his with a dishrag before turning around to finally face him. He smiles and leans in, pressing his lips against mine. I feel his tongue graze the roof of my mouth and my arms automatically move to rest on his shoulders. His hands rest on my waist, pulling me towards him as he tilts his head to one side and intensifies the kiss. We could stay like this for days, I know, if we weren't careful. I pull back from him a little, breathless.

"Are we going to do this all day?"

**Luka**

Her lips taste of this morning's maple syrup, sweet and rich. I tilt my head to one side and pull her into me, deepening the kiss. I love the feeling of her body against mine. She pulls away and looks up at me, trying to catch her breath. "Are we going to do this all day?"

A smile creeps over my face and I grip her waist and back her out of the kitchen, towards the couch. "I wouldn't mind." I move her backwards until her legs hit the couch and she involuntarily falls onto the cushions. I carefully lay myself on top of her, making sure not to crush her petite frame.

She looks at me, skepticism mixed with amusement. "Don't we have things to do?"

I don't want to do anything but kiss her, hold her close to me, and ask her to spend the rest of her life with me. I press my lips against hers and leave a soft kiss on her mouth. "We should have a day off."

She hesitates and bites her lip before leaning upwards and placing one hand on the nape of my neck. "Okay." She draws me down to her and lets me slid my tongue between her lips again. I pace my breathing, because as much as I want to take this further, as much as I can feel my body anticipating more, she needs to know I'm here for more than that. I'd be more than willing to spend every waking moment making love to her, but I feel as though I have something to prove to her today. I know she'd never jump into my arms and agree to marry me, weeping like in the movies. I know she can barely consider marriage without getting moody and dysfunctional. I know she's been hurt and she doesn't want to repeat the mistakes of her past. If I have even the slightest chance of getting her to say 'yes' tonight, she needs to know I want her for more than sex, more than companionship, more than any one thing. In that sentiment, I gently roll onto my back, bringing her with me so that she's lying on top of me. The brief moment before our mouths come together again gives me the opportunity to look into her eyes and see that, if nothing else, she loves me. I've got a chance.

**Abby**

He brushes his lips over mine, sending a little shiver up my spine, and then proceeds to trace the lines of my face with his mouth. I'm not a romantic by any standards, but god, if this isn't love, than what is?

I love him. I honestly do...more than I've ever loved anyone. I haven't said it out loud to him very often, but I think he knows, regardless. I should say it more, I know he needs to hear it, but it's kryptonite to me. The words always catch in my throat before I can say them. It's been like that since...well, since as long as I can remember. I said it to Richard often enough, but, in retrospect, I never really meant it. We had a marriage of convenience. We met, we dated, we moved in, and marriage seemed only logical. There was never a romance, never any sparks. I wanted someone to rescue me and he was there...he was available. He was with me because he liked me, and then because he could bring me along for the ride with no argument. I let him make the decisions, I let him do what he wanted, and I was there when he came home. And he...he was a warm body. I numbed myself through our relationship, so long I wasn't alone, I was fine. Eventually, the numbness wore off, and, like always, I got hurt. I always do.

I trust Luka more than anyone else, but it's still not enough. I'm still terrified he'll hurt me, and I know he has the power to hurt me more than anyone else ever could, because I love him more than I've ever loved anyone. He can save me...or he can destroy me. It's as simple as that. The more I let him in, the more he could hurt me.

I realize Luka is looking at me. My mind wandered too far again. He looks at me, brushes my hair out of my face, and smiles a little. "Penny for your thoughts?" I taught him that phrase.

"Just thinking." I lay my head on his chest and hear the gentle _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart. "Want to know a secret?" It's as good a time as any to bring it up.

He runs his fingers through my hair. "Yes. Tell me."

"I'm going back to med school."

He doesn't say anything, and I begin to worry he's mad that I didn't tell him before. I lean up a little to look at his face, and realize he's grinning. "Really?"

I nod. "Mmhmm. As of next Tuesday, I'm starting my surgical rotation."

Luka takes my face in his hands and pulls me into a kiss. "You know it's against policy for attendings to mess around with students, right?"

I kiss him back. "Then it's a good thing we're not just messing around." That's it. No reprimand for not telling him sooner. No line about how proud he is. No inquiries. Acceptance. Support. And that's why I love him. That's why I'm learning, trying, to let my guard down.

**Abby**

_I'm running though a forest, dense with trees. Branches scrape and cut at my skin as I run past, but I can't stop. There's something following me, I have no idea what, but I know if I slow down it will catch up with me. I hear someone calling my name, over and over, and I run toward the voice. Suddenly, my foot catches on something and I trip..._

I wake with a start, a cold sweat already forming on my brow. Luka's eyes are on me, concerned. "Are you okay?"

I must have fallen asleep while we were lying together. I swallow a few times and nod. "Fine."

He looks unconvinced, and brushes my hair out of my face. I feel him pull me into him tightly, telling me without words that it's okay. I press my nose into his neck, drinking in his scent. It comforts me, gives me something familiar to bring me back. I feel his hand caress the back of my head, twirling my hair around his fingers. I love this closeness, and I hate it, as well. It's so good, so safe, so easy that there's a constant sense of dread that it has to end. That I'll get hurt again, lose him, lose the stability in my life that's been growing over the past months. No matter how many times he tells me, or even shows me that he won't let me down, I can't let myself believe it. It's my nature to distrust and it ruins things every time. I want so badly to keep what we have going, but there's a fear, a fear that I'm not enough, that I'll disappoint him, that he'll disappoint me, and, more than anything, and irrational as it seems, that some mystical undertow will come along and destroy this thing we have, because it always does. I don't know if I'm capable of being happy. It makes my stomach churn to think that this, like every other good thing in my life, will fall apart. I want to think we're stronger than that, but it's happened before, and no amount of reassurance has seemed to fix that broken record in my mind. Even here, in his arms, I can't completely let go.

"Abby..." His singsong tone snaps me out of my daze, and I look up to see him gazing at me. I force a smile, and he returns it, though his is sincere. "My legs are falling asleep," he whispers.

My smile becomes more genuine. "Are you saying I'm heavy?"

"I would never say such a thing to a lady." He kisses my forehead. "Especially such a beautiful one."

"I thought so." I rest my head back on his chest.

He jostles me a little. "Really...I can't feel my feet." I don't move. I love teasing him. "Abby...don't make me move you." I lie still. Agitating him is the first step...egging him on ever so slightly until he begins to actually get annoyed. His face will get a little warmer, his cheeks a little flushed. He'll sigh a few times and roll his eyes, and then shift around before he threatens something he won't actually carry out. It's incredibly sexy, something he's unaware that I enjoy. The anxiety that was rising in my throat melts away as he follows his predictable pattern.

**Luka**

"Seriously, I can't feel my feet." There's a tingling sensation running all over my legs, and it's not the kind I enjoy. As much as I love her here in my arms, I need to get up. "Abby...don't make me move you." She's being difficult, and I don't want to move her. I hate that I love letting her have her way. She won't budge, and now I'm becoming aggravated. She does this just to push me, and I know it amuses her to no end. I sigh and shift a little. "Please, my legs are asleep. Don't be a pain."

She nuzzles her face into my chest and wraps her arms more tightly around me. Despite myself, I have to smile. "But I'm so comfortable." I feel her shift around on top of me, and another sort of tingling takes over my body.

"Are we playing this game?" I slowly slide one hand under the tee shirt - my tee shirt - that she's wearing to rest against her smooth skin. She responds by slipping her palms up under my own shirt to rest against my pectoral muscles. She presses her fingertips gently into my chest and then slides her hands up, removing my shirt. I help her pull it off, and she rests her head back on my chest, her nose pressed into my skin. I feel her lips barely touching me, and I forget all about why I needed her to move. She's not going anywhere. I inch my hands up her back until she is forced to lift her arms so I can slide the shirt over her head. For a brief moment while she rises up, I catch a glimpse of her small, rounded, perfect breasts. There's not a thing about her I would change. I love every curve, every inch, every line of her body and that's only the physical part. She's beautiful in a way very few women are, and I don't think she understands that. I love how her skin glows and the water sparkles against her after she showers. I love how her hair always manages to make a frame around her face and fall across her shoulders in a perfect, modest curtain when she's lying on her back on the bed. I love how intense her eyes are when she speaks and how they glow when she becomes passionate about something. I love how her body seems to fit perfectly with mine, like she was made for me. As she kisses my chest, I catch the scent of honey and cinnamon and something spicy. Her scent. It makes my head spin how much I want her, not just sexually, but all of her. Everything about her. I want to hold her and never let her go.

**Abby**

I don't have to look up to know how he looks right now. My face is pressed into his bare chest, my own chest uncovered. His hands rest on my waist, grasping my hips without dominance, just comfortable there. I know his eyes are closed, a somber look on his face. There are probably the beginnings of a smile on his lips, but only a faint one. I know this man better than I know myself sometimes. I kiss his chest lightly again, and I know his lopsided grin will grow a little stronger. My hands move from resting on his chest to travel down to the edge of his flannel pants, playing with the elastic waistband. I feel the slight movement as he becomes aroused, and I can hear his heartbeat quicken a little. I breathe in again, pressing my nose against his breastbone. His fingers trace the length of my spine, pausing where my bare skin meets the band of the boxer shorts I stole from his top drawer. His clothes are comfortable on me, not only for the roominess and the soft fabric, but the familiarity of his smell and the comfort of just being able to take them without asking. A little sign to show he's mine. Our hands rest on each other's waistbands, but there's no rush. I gently push his pants down as I push myself up so that my face is even with his. He looks at me solemnly for a few moments before breaking into a grin. His eyes search mine, and I lean into him as our lips touch. We press our mouths together for a few moments before his tongue pries its way between my lips. I feel him tasting every fraction of an inch of my mouth, and I smile in spite of myself, our lips still locked. His hand moves behind my head, untangling my hair from the elastic so that it spills over our faces. His palm rests on the back of my head, thumb and forefinger caressing my hair. He's delicate with me in a way that I'm surprised by even now. Looking at him, tall, dark, intense, I'd have images of him throwing me down roughly or pinning me to the wall with such force that it shatters glass. He has that sense about him. It's happened, yes, we've broken picture frames, smashed a lamp or two, left marks where the bed banged against the wall, but even then, there's a tender way about him. Usually, though, he's impossibly sweet, taking his time to built up, giving me attention that no one has ever shown me. He loves me without words, and he's the only man I've ever stood in front of naked and not been shy or embarrassed. He looks at me, at my body, without any hint of dissatisfaction. He looks at me and I know he doesn't want me to change. He watches me when we make love, and it makes me blush colors I've never dreamed. I'm beautiful when I'm with him.

**Luka**

I move my tongue between her lips, into her mouth. I taste the mint flavor of her toothpaste and smile to myself. After a few heated moments, I draw her tongue into my mouth as well, and for the second time today, the space between us disappears. I finally let my hands slide under the waistband of her shorts and run them over her hips. Her skin is smooth, warm, and I use my thumbs to pull the shorts down as far as I can reach. Her hips are level with my navel, mine with her thighs. She's tiny compared to me, but it never has seems to get in our way. From the first time, we knew exactly how to make ourselves fit, like two pieces of a puzzle. Without breaking the kiss, she kicks off her shorts the rest of the way and uses her foot to pull mine off, flinging them across the room to track down later. I smile into her mouth and move both my hands to her face. She lets our lips part and presses her forehead to mine, our eyes saying more than we ever can out loud. I catch her hand with mine and press her palm to my mouth before lacing my fingers through hers and holding her face gently, one hand entwined with hers, the other free to caress her cheek.

"You're so difficult, you know that?" I whisper to her, smiling.

She purses her lips and leans in, her eyes closing gently as we kiss again. "Yes."

She's god awful stubborn, impossibly independent, and never wrong. She won't listen to advice, accept help, or take "no" for an answer. I wanted her to move in here with me months ago and she said it was too soon. She won't commit and sabotages herself more than she'll confess to, and I know there's a decent chance of her getting angry with me for proposing to her. That makes me want to even more. I love her chaos and her challenges, and I love her fire. She's unlike anyone I've ever met and god help me, I'm in love with her. She's imperfect and that makes her perfect.

She sits up to remove her panties and my briefs, and I take advantage of the view. I let my hands move to her waist and gaze at her body, perched atop mine. Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders and she gives me a half smile, almost shyly. I just look at her, this beautiful woman I let go once, and I know I can't live without her. I pull her down on top of me and she lets me kiss her only once before she wordlessly sits back up, moving lower so that our hips are aligned, and leans her head down to kiss the small scar on my side from a lifetime ago in the Croatian military. As she straightens up, I move her hair behind her ear. I catch her blushing slightly, and I love the power I have to do that to her. She shifts on top of me and I allow her control for the moment as our rhythm falls into place, our own dance. It's an action that makes the things we never need to say tangible, the animation of our thoughts and our emotions.

Before the Congo, before we were back together, I let myself forget who I was. I couldn't move past losing my family, past the guilt of not being able to save them, past the idea that if I let myself move on, I would forget. I ruined what I had with Abby and let that eat me alive. I lost sight of where I'd come from and what I believed and how I wanted to live and I tried to forget everything by living dangerously. I drank until I couldn't see straight and I slept with any woman who'd have me. I let making love turn into sex and let sex turn into something trivial. I forgot what it was to be with someone and have it be more than an action. It was robotic, automatic, barely more than a game. Abby was the first, and only, woman I loved after Danijela. The first time we made love it was both heartbreaking and elating. It was beautiful. I'll never forget the feeling. It was like that every time, but she was the last woman I had that with. No one else meant anything. When we made love that night after I returned from the Congo, everything that had been dead inside me for so long came back to life. She made life worth living again. Every single time we make love, I get that feeling again, of being alive after so much time being dead, of waking up after a long sleep. I hate that I ever let that get away from me, and I know I never want to make love to another woman. Now, as we move together, every nerve in my body comes alive. Sex with Abby is a feeling like nothing I can put words to. It's euphoric.

Our bodies know each other intimately, and we can let the motions come naturally as our eyes meet. Her deep, liquid brown eyes lock with mine and there's a force in our gaze that heightens the sensation. Our motions slow as she bends at the hips. I lean up a little and meet her in a kiss, pulling her close and in one fluid motion; I manage to reverse our positions without breaking contact. I head her moan a little and a jolt of electricity goes up my spine as I pin her below me. She gives over control and I take in the sight of her, exquisite, beneath me. She closes her eyes and moves her hands to clasp behind my neck as we hit our stride. Her face contorts slightly as I bite down on my lip. I quickly lower my head and kiss her again, this time making it last, our mouths twisting together. We're impossibly close, and yet if there was a way, I'd want her closer. If I could never break our kiss, I'd be content to live the rest of my life that way.

**Abby**

It's only as we unwind, lying together on the sofa, that I can think again. When it's so intense as it just was, I can't think. My mind burns. Everything about this, making love, his weight on top of me, spending our day just being together, feels right. I can't find a flaw. For the first time I can't find a single thing wrong with the present, and it scares me as much as it delights me. I can't find a reason not to want this to continue indefinitely. Why I can't admit that out loud, I don't know. Perhaps it's the fear that if I say it, it will become reality, and fall apart. Perhaps I don't trust it. Perhaps I don't trust that he feels the same way, because I still feel the nagging sensation that I'll never be enough for him. He's such a good man, better than I deserve. Tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious. The first impression I had of him was dead on, and I don't know how I've managed to hang onto him. I know I'm beyond lucky, that any woman would kill to be in my position, pinned under perhaps the most incredibly gorgeous, kindest, sexiest man in existence. I almost laugh out loud to think I've just made love with every woman's fantasy. The thick accent, brooding European disposition, the handsome doctor, and I somehow call him my own. Me, a recovering alcoholic, a moody, twisted brunette with a marginally insane track record and a tobacco-and-caffeine addiction to boot. Lovely. I must have done something incredible in a past life to deserve this.

I feel him kiss my neck and I can't help smiling. How is it possible for him to love me? He should have some leggy blonde with a big chest and a trust fund. His hand grazes my cheek and he kisses my forehead. Is this really my life? Am I just dreaming this? He seems to read my mind, and reassures me as only he can. "I love you, Abby."

I rarely say it back, usually just answer by kissing him, but something inside me screams that, for once, I should just swallow my inhibitions and say it. For god sakes, I have something far beyond what I deserve. I swallow hard and turn my head to look him dead in the eyes, those impossibly deep grey eyes. "I love you, too." It comes out a whisper, but goddamn it, I said it. He seems a little shocked, and blinks a few times before kissing me. We've sealed the deal. He loves me. I love him. All is right with my life, which means for sure that hell has frozen over. I wrap my arms around his neck and hang on for dear life, sure that the world will fall off its axis with my admission. He presses his face into my neck and his lips touch my skin as the world stays surprisingly still.

**Luka**

We don't move from the couch until it begins to get dark. We almost never just relax like this, and I revel in the chance to just enjoy her. I can't imagine a more perfect day than this to ask her to marry me. The stars seem to be aligned in my favor, but then again, every day with her seems perfect. Even if we fight, and it happens, nothing can change how good life is so long as I can call her my own. The world can fall apart around us, and so long as I can kiss her goodnight and kiss her good morning, I don't need anything else. I loved like this once before, and to have it again is more than I can ask. I let myself forget who I was, and she brought me back. I don't deserve her, but I have her. The most beautiful, incredible, flawless woman I could dream of, and she lets me love her. She rarely says it back to me, but today she did, and it makes an otherwise perfect day even moreso. This much happiness makes me almost feel guilty for those who aren't so lucky, but I don't care. I have Abby. I have the world.

We finally vacate the poor sofa, which after much abuse from us, is much in need of replacing. I smile at the permanent dip in the cushions that has formed a mold of our bodies. We get a lot of use out of it. It occurs to me that I should take her out for dinner. It seems only right. Her favorite place isn't far, a cozy little Italian place a few blocks away. As she begins to dress, I stop her.

"Put on something nice," I instruct her, kissing her soft hand.

She cocks her head to the side. "Nice?"

"We should go out to dinner." I smile a little. "I want to take you out."

"How nice?"

I grin. "Surprise me."

She laughs softly and nods before disappearing into my bedroom, where she's accumulated a wardrobe. Her apartment is a formality now. My bathroom counter is covered in her makeup, body lotion, feminine products, a scented candle. Somehow, when I wasn't looking, she took over my apartment. I'm happy with that. I head towards the kitchen to get a glass of water and pull open the refrigerator. She's invaded that, too. Ketchup. Apple juice. White bread. Poptarts in my cupboards, frozen waffles in the freezer. I don't mind it. I like the constant presence around my apartment. I pull out the water pitcher and have to smile. There's barely a drop left, but she hasn't refilled it. I seem like a male Martha Stewart compared to this domestic nightmare. It's surprising how much of a disaster she is when it comes to housekeeping. I shake my head and fill a glass from the tap. I don't care. She's perfect just as she is.

**Luka**

I hear footsteps down the hall and turn around to see her coming towards me. Somehow, she must have anticipated that I wanted to remember exactly the way she looks tonight, because my jaw drops. She has that affect quite often. The simple skirt and top are nothing special in and of themselves, but on her, I feel like commissioning a portrait. She's stunning. The lines of the skirt follow her hips and thighs to stop above her knee, where I can already imagine my hand resting. The neckline of her top scoops gently to reveal the slightest bit of cleavage. The rest is left to the imagination, and, trust me, it's something I do imagine. I smile and walk towards her, brushing her silky hair from her shoulder to place a kiss there. "You look nice."

She raised her eyebrows playfully. "Just nice?"

"Nice is all I could think of. I'm too busy imagining you without the clothes." I grin.

She smiles back at me. "Haven't you had enough of me today?"

"Never." I wink at her before heading off to get dressed myself. Inside the privacy of my room, I take the ring out of its hiding place and study it. It's not fancy, I know better than that. Just a simple diamond, to compliment someone who is anything but simple. I put on a pair of nice pants and the dark blue shirt she bought me that I know she likes best on me. I slip the small velvet box in my pocket and smile to myself at the thought of it on her hand. Just as I drop it into my pocket, she pushes the door open. I turn to see her take a bottle of perfume from where she keeps it on my dresser and dab it to her wrists. I watch as she moves her wrists behind her ears and touch them to her skin. Quickly, I walk over to her and catch her arms still over her head. Holding both her wrists in one hand, I lean down and kiss her, then smell where she dabbed the perfume. I pull back and smile. "Very nice."

"Thank you." She gives me a little grin and takes hold of my arm, pulling me to the door. "Come on, I'm starving."

**Abby**

He catches my wrists midair and bends to kiss me. He presses his cheek against mine and breathes in my perfume. "Very nice," he notes, smiling. God this is sexy.

I smile. "Thank you." I take his arm and lead him towards the front door. "Come on, I'm starving."

"Yes, dear." He follows me obediently, and I have to laugh. I grab my jacket and he grabs his as we leave the apartment and walk down the stairs, his arm around my waist. I'm surprised he wanted to go out to dinner, given how relaxed our day was. I sort of expected him to order a pizza or something, but this is just as well. Now and then it's nice to dress up. I catch our reflection in the glass as we exit the apartment building. We make a nice looking pair. He's much taller than I am, but it works. It's never seemed awkward. He takes my hand in his as we walk the few blocks to my favorite Italian restaurant. I don't have to ask if that's where we were going, I just know. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. Chivalry is a dying art, but Luka has it perfected. We walk in silence, the sun setting behind the buildings ahead. When we reach the corner where the restaurant is, he opens the door for me, holds it until I'm through. A gentleman if I ever knew one. Carter was a gentleman, too, but it always seemed like an act, something he did that matched his bank account. Luka is genuine, though, come to think of it, I never saw him hold the door for anyone else. Not that I would have noticed. As we go to our usual table, he pulls my chair out for me. I could kiss him for being so sweet, but I refrain. Not in public. He waits for me to sit and slides my chair in behind me. Oh, what the hell. I pull him by the arm and kiss him quickly. He grins and sits across from me. "What was that for?"

I shrug. "Just because."

Dinner is quiet, just as our whole day has been. It's fine with me. We don't need to talk to understand each other. So much is said without conversation. That he knows I love this place, that I knew we were going here, that he pulled out my chair for me. That I offer him a bite of my dinner and let him eat off my fork. That he offers me a bite of his and I end up eating half of his dinner. That he orders my favorite dessert without having to ask. That we glance at each other, exchange smiles, that he puts his hand over mine and rubs his thumb over my palm. That I let him pay for the check without argument and that he helps me into my coat as we leave. Words are meaningless compared to these actions. We are in harmony.

**Luka**

As we leave the restaurant, I notice the sky is clear and starry. The perfect night for a walk. I take her hand in mine and wordlessly head towards the river, our favorite place to just wander. She lets me pull her close, wrap my arm around her, and her head rests against me as we walk. The night is balmy and we stroll slowly, an easy silence between us. I feel her shiver a little, and I automatically take off my coat and drape it around her shoulders. She looks up at me and smiles, appreciating the action and knowing better than to argue. I kiss the top of her head and she snuggles in close to me as we approach a footbridge. I lead her to the railing and we stand on the bridge, looking out at the water. I stand behind her, gently trapping her between me and the rail. I wonder if she can hear my heart pounding in my chest as she leans back into me and sighs. One arm around her waist, one in my pocket, gripping the little box. I take one deep, shaky breath...and another...and another. I'm nervous, not of what I'm doing, but of how she'll react. Part of me is afraid I could lose her if this is too soon, but I know that this is what I want, and I think she does, too. I squeeze my eyes shut and take one last deep breath before I lean down and rest my chin on her shoulder. I kiss her cheek and swallow, my throat dry and scratchy. "Abby," I whisper. She turns her head a little, and I look her in the eye as I take the little box from my pocket and open it. "Marry me."

**Abby**

We stand looking out at the dark water, his body behind me, pressing up against me. I'm caught between him and the railing, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be. His arm is wrapped around my waist and I lean my head back against his chest. The night sky is full of stars, twinkling overhead. The perfect end to a perfect day. I can hear him take a few deep breaths, probably enjoying the cool, sweet spring air as much as I am. He rests his chin on my shoulder and kisses my cheek softly. God, this is romantic, and I'm surprisingly happy with that. Romance with Luka isn't corny or melodramatic, it just...is. He whispers my name, and I turn my head a little. He's looking straight into my eyes, and I feel my pulse quicken as he gazes at me intently. The way he looks at about that look tells me he's about to do something...something that makes my heart jump into my throat. "Marry me," he whispers.

Oh god. I feel lightheaded, all the blood seems to drain from my body and I feel cold all over. Panic rises in me. He's proposing. He's proposing to me. My head spins. What do I say? My first instinct is to say no, that we're not ready, but as I try to think of a reason to say that, I draw a blank. We are ready. There's nothing I can come up as a reason not to marry him. I love him; I love him in a way I never expected. He's a good man, he's good to me, we're good together. I can't think of a single reason not to spend the rest of my life with him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and as much as it terrifies me, I can't tell him no. I want to marry him...oh god. I want to marry Luka. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest. My mouth falls open a little as he holds up a velvet box with a ring. A diamond engagement ring. He's really asking. He's really asking me to marry him. Jesus, how do I answer? I know what my answer is, but my voice seems to have disappeared. I close my mouth and look into those deep grey eyes, full of sincerity and love and promise. Words are still failing me. I nod, slowly, and finally my voice comes back to me. "Okay." It's all I can force out of my throat, and even that comes out hoarse.

He looks at me, to be sure I'm serious. "Okay?"

I nod again. This time I'm sure of it. I want to marry him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. "I'll marry you." His face breaks into a smile and he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto my finger. A perfect fit...like the two of us. He turns me around to face him and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up as he leans down to kiss me. I'm in a daze. He proposed. He proposed to me and I said yes. I'm marrying Luka. Despite everything in me that wants to laugh at myself for this, I feel a few tears in my eyes. When did this all happen? When did I leave my demons behind and let happiness sneak up on me? When did I let love in? As we pull apart and a few tears slide down my cheeks, I realize the answer. When I opened the door to find him on the other side that night, after the Congo, after the hospital, after so many bad days and weeks and months and years, it all came down to him. I didn't want to be rescued, but, in the end, I was. He came and rescued me and I suppose I rescued him right back.

**Luka**

As we walk back, I have to concentrate on just walking straight. She said yes. She'll marry me. I'm half afraid I'll wake up and realize it was all a dream, but as we open the door to my apartment, I know it's real. It's really happening. She shuts the door gently and turns to face me, smiling softly. I remove her coat and mine and then move to put them in the closet, but change my mind suddenly and throw them on the floor. She gives me a strange look and I walk over to her and kiss her hard, walking her backwards to that she's pinned to the door. She lets out a small gasp. After a few minutes of frantic kissing, I pull back, breathing hard. She looks at me, an almost stunned look on her beautiful face. Her eyes search mine, and I answer her unspoken question by pulling her shirt over her head. She grins and lets her arms rest around my neck as I kiss her again. I lift her up off the ground and she wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom. We fall onto the bed together and I smile at her, lying on the bed, staring up at me, her hair spread out around her, her eyes shining, lips pursed, cheeks flushed. She's always been beautiful, but now, at this moment, she's moreso. More beautiful than I've ever seen her. Her arms stretch over her head, bent at the elbows, stretching her body out on the sheets like some painting I swear I've seen before. There's a light in her eyes I can only imagine is reflected in my own, and I pray to god I had something to do with how happy she seems right now. Perfect, flawless, incredible, she lies on my bed, waiting patiently, and I can only stare and take her in. I won't remember what she was wearing or how she did her hair, but I'll never forget the way she looks tonight.


End file.
